


A Demon's Heart Is Not Easily Won

by LadyJaguar



Category: Good Omens (TV), Holby City
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angel Roxanna Macmillan, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Complete, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dark, Dark Comedy, Death of Major Characters, Demon John Gaskell, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Ghosts, Heaven vs Hell, Holby Halloween Monster Mash 2019, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Incubus John, M/M, Mentioned Aziraphale (Good Omens), Mentioned Crowley (Good Omens), Non-Explicit Sex, Suggestive Themes, Top Crowley (Good Omens), ghost story, johnrik
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2020-12-28 09:49:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21134744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJaguar/pseuds/LadyJaguar
Summary: Another hot mess of a story, a crossover of Holby City and Good Omens. This work is now complete.Henrik is plagued by an assortment of angels and demons, amongst them John Gaskell, Roxanna, and Aziraphale and Crowley from Good Omens.I pantsed this all the way, so..... I hope you enjoy it!NB: Tags for occasional uses of explicit language and non-explicit sexual references.





	1. Chapter 1

_Henrik slept, sprawled on his front, alone in his low, wide bed. His breathing was soft, and in repose he was almost at peace._

_John sat on the chest of drawers opposite the bed, as he had every night since gaining Demon status. The Boss had indulged him, as his killing of Roxanna had made him the poster boy for budding psychopaths in the medical profession, knocking Shipman off his perch. He had proven his worth, so he was allowed some fun._

_Henrik muttered in his sleep and rolled over onto his back. The movement tugged his pyjama bottoms lower down on his narrow hips, exposing jutting bone and hollow._

_John slid off the chest of drawers and removed his jacket. His wings itched just under the skin of his back but that was easy to ignore with a sight of such deliciousness before him._

_Leaning down, he drew a line down Henrik’s pale chest to his navel._

_Henrik shuddered, still asleep, yet one part of his body had jolted awake. John traced the line of his erection with a gentle finger, feeling it thicken under his touch._

_Henrik opened his eyes and whispered John’s name._

_John used his power to remove his own clothes in an instant, and crawled next to Henrik on the bed, wrapping his limbs around him. He whispered in Henrik’s ear, feathered his fingers down to encircle him, feeling his breath catch and his breathing quicken._

_Henrik’s expression changed to confusion, then joy as John ravished him, as he had for the past few nights. He clung to him, enslaved by John’s touch, not knowing that after every time, he was becoming more dependent on John’s presence._

_Eventually he shuddered, a soft grunt passing his lips as release came. John cradled him, kissing his neck, savouring the sweet taste of his beloved._

_He had no qualms about what he was doing, but dawn was nearly upon him and he was out of time. He kissed Henrik’s lips and pulled away, covering him with the sheet._

_By the time he stood up, he was dressed again, fading to nothing._

***

It was a beautiful Autumn day with hardly a cloud in the sky. Golden leaves swirled around the feet of ex-Professor John Gaskell, now full-time Demon, and former Neurosurgeon Roxanna Macmillan, now a fully-fledged Angel.

For the sake of the humans around them, their wings were out of sight.

John wore Wayfarers to disguise the fact his eyes were red. Again, for the humans’ benefit. They were supposed to blend in whenever they were on Earth, but blending in had never been John Gaskell’s strong point. He wore tight black black leather trousers and a long-line black jacket, fashioned after Christopher Walken’s portrayal of the Angel Gabriel in the film The Prophecy. Though the film had been a little histrionic, he couldn’t deny Walken made Gabriel look good.

Roxanna sat with her legs and ankles pressed neatly together, hands composed in her lap as she smiled at a child playing nearby. She looked pretty in her dusky pink tartan mini-skirt and coral pink blouse, setting off the platinum of her pixie-cropped hair. She had even adopted a saintly air, one that irritated John immensely.

He prodded his finger at the child, who promptly fell over and started wailing. The little beast’s mother ran over to comfort it.

“That was mean,” Roxanna chided him.

John shrugged. “I’m a Demon. What do you expect?”

Roxanna nodded to another couple sitting on another park bench not far away. Two men, one long and lean in black snug jeans, the other prissy and slightly portly in a cream suit. He gave Roxanna a pained smile, as if knowing exactly what she had to put up with. 

“Who is that with Aziraphale?”

John lowered his glasses for a moment. “Crowley. He gave me a _very_ hard time when I first entered.” He sighed lustfully.

Roxanna rolled her eyes. “Oh please, spare me the details.”

“I wonder if Crowley’s little angel friend knows about us?”

“I’m sure Aziraphale is quite aware of what you're like, and I’m equally convinced he’s heard all he needs to,” Roxanna replied crisply. 

The two demons acknowledged each other.

_Who’s the hot stuff? _Crowley asked in John’s head.

_Roxanna. I killed her_, John replied.

_Sweet. The one you locked in and …. did things to?_

“He most certainly did not!” Roxanna snapped, her cheeks turning pink. “John, what have you been saying to him?” 

Crowley nudged Aziraphale, who grimaced at Roxanna and mouthed “sorry.” They strolled away, Crowley’s arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders, and gradually faded into nothing.

“What I don’t get, is why you’re an angel in the first place,” John said to Roxanna. “You were always as atheist as I was.”

“Ssh! No one knows that,” Roxanna whispered. “God and I made a pact after you had locked me in. I would join him if he made sure you paid the price for what you did.”

John laughed. “Oh, I paid alright. With better clothes, great music and a lot more sex.”

“David and I are together now, and I’m happy,” Roxanna said firmly. “The only reason I’m here now is because He has asked me to watch over Henrik, probably to see if you’re intending to lead him astray.”

“Henrik doesn’t need protecting. He’ll be with me eventually. Sooner rather than later if the Boss agrees.”

“No, John, Henrik is destined for Heaven. God knows he’s made so many sacrifices. It’s my job to keep him from being corrupted.”

John snorted rudely. “Henrik is already corrupted. You’ve just never allowed yourself to accept it.” He stood up and stretched, then lowered his glasses and gave her a red-eyed wink before fading away.


	2. Chapter 2

When Henrik woke, he was dismayed by the stickiness on his pyjamas. 

Not again, he thought, wiping himself clean. He didn’t understand what was wrong with him. He hadn’t had a wet dream since …

Since he and John had fooled around after drinking too much vodka at university. That had been the last time.

But he had been waking up in this state every day for a good two weeks. And every night, the dream was the same. 

John, slipping into bed beside him, gazing down at him with glowing red eyes, tongue slipping between his lips, working deeper, imparting a sweet nectar whilst his hand worked magic on Henrik's body. Knowing just how to touch him, how much pressure, how much speed, making Henrik cling to him as the waves of pleasure overtook everything... 

In the shower, he touched his body, remembering, wishing it had been true.

_You're missing me._

"I'm not. Go away," he said out loud, even though he knew he was on his own. 

Thoughts like these plagued him all the time. Thoughts of John, who he strived to find so much good in. Thoughts that he was in the wings somewhere, still playing with his mind like a toy balloon. He was able to push those thoughts away during the day, but at night, when the apartment was quiet and the Scotch he had drunk to numb the pain just seemed to make the ache grow, they came back. 

Not just of what he did to Roxanna, and to Josh Bloom, and to so many others in his quest to make medical history, but of the words he had said in the lake, and his invitation. 

_Come with me. We can be together for all time._

But that was useless. All thoughts of John were useless. He was gone. Nothing could ever bring him back. Not Scotch, or dreams or wishing and hoping. Nothing. 

And that hurt more than anything. It would bring him to his knees if he thought about it too much. Even his pain over losing Roxanna didn't match the pain of learning John was responsible for her death, and then losing him too.

He dried himself, ironed a clean shirt and dressed in a smart suit, had a cup of tea in his favourite bone china cup, all those things he had been doing automatically for years, All those things that ensured his life would continue when so many others had not. But that morning, something was different. He wanted more. More than a good career, money, a roof over his head. He wanted a satisfying relationship with someone he cared for deeply. He was ready for that now. How that change of mind had come about so suddenly, he wasn't sure, but it was time. 

Perhaps he would offer to take Carol Copeland dancing again. The poor woman must be desperate for a bit of action.

He stared at himself, appalled. Where on earth had that thought come from? He would never... not with her. She was a lovely, decent, kind woman, but not for him. Not ... in that way. 

As he drove away towards Holby, a lone figure sat on the roof of his apartment, black wings folded neatly behind him, his red eyes hidden by Wayfarers. He was smiling.

***

Later that evening, an RTC came into the AAU department. 

"Female in her fifties with a broken leg and possible head injuries. A beer barrels fell off a lorry and smashed right into her car," the paramedic said. 

Serena looked, and recognised Carole Copeland immediately. She swung into action. 

"Find Doctor Copeland. Tell him his mother is here."

Henrik limped in a few moments later. He refused to use a wheelchair, as it was obvious he had nothing more than a bump on the head. He felt terrible about Carole. Obviously, she wouldn't be dancing for a while, although she would make a full recovery in time.

_How could you have done that to her, Henrik._ Strange how he heard that in Roxanna's voice.

"I don't know what came over me," he said, when Zav guided him to a chair to make his assessment. 

"What happened, Mr. Hanssen?" 

"I was driving. The lorry appeared and ... must have skidded on some oil on the road." He didn't meet Zav's gaze. The truth had been far more horrible than that. After a very pleasant evening trying to master the foxtrot, he had driven Carole home. On the way, he had felt the sudden urge to put his hand on her thigh.

He could still hear her shocked "Mr. Hanssen!" and somewhere in the background, a demonic chuckle. As he tried to repair the damage, the lorry had appeared and...

"I need to go home," he said, after Zav had inspected his head wound. He didn't want to spend the night in the hospital. If he had one of those dreams again... He shuddered at the potential for embarrassment. 

Zav looked at him again, then frowned. He shone his pencil torch into Henrik's left eye. "Your eye looks very red. I'll arrange for a scan. If you had a bump we can't be too careful."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm fine." Henrik rose from the bed, just as Serena came around the corner. 

"Sit down," she said sternly. "If Dr. Duval recommends you have a scan, then you're having one. You should know better than to argue about that, Henrik." 

***

They let him go two hours later, satisfied that his injuries were minor. Nothing had showed up in the scan, other than a few ruptured capillaries and there was no pain. He assumed it was part of the general shock of the accident, and thought no more of it.

At home, he poured a large Scotch, even though he had been advised not to take alcohol with the painkillers he had been given. Then he went to bed, letting the fog cloud over his thoughts. 

He woke in the dead of night, a state of half-wakefulness, his limbs too heavy to move. His heart began to beat very fast when he saw a dark figure standing at the foot of the bed. The urge to run was overwhelming, but he was stuck there on the mattress, as if made of lead. 

The figure moved closer, and transformed into the image of John.

_Hello Henrik._

Henrik knew he was dreaming, but the image seemed so real, he could feel the warmth of John's lips as they brushed against his. Henrik opened his mouth to scream but what came out was a gasp. The heat of John's breath feathered against his skin. As he kissed him all over, Henrik's body began to shimmer with sensation. A small whine escaped him. He couldn't move, yet he no longer wanted to...

***

John felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked up to see Crowley standing on the other side of the bed. 

"Do you mind? I'm busy!"

"Sorry to interrupt but the Boss wants to see you." He grimaced at Henrik, frozen in ecstasy, his eyes blank. "Does he know it's you yet?"

"Not yet. He thinks he's losing his mind."

"I thought you'd have him by now. If it were me, he'd be with us already." Crowley grinned at John. "Tick tock, Gaskell. The Boss is waiting."

"What does he want?"

"How should I know? I could take over if you like." 

"I have it covered, thank you." John wished Crowley would go away. He didn't want to leave Henrik with him. 

"Oh relax. He's too skinny for me," Crowley sneered. "My preference is for plump blond angels. I'll take it where I can get it though. Even with you." He raised a dark brow and flickered a red-eyed look at John's half-naked body. 

"Piss off, Crowley. This isn't going to take long." 

"Well, obviously that isn't quite true, is it? See you, sweetie." Crowley disappeared in a cloud of red smoke.

John looked down at Henrik, suspended in agonised pleasure, and thought about leaving him like that. 

"No! Leave him alone." Roxanna appeared in front of him. She was surrounded by butterflies, which flapped annoyingly in his face. She spread her wings and shielded Henrik from him. Behind her, he sank down into a blissful, dreamless sleep.

John clenched his fists in frustration._ Christ, she was so holier than thou. _

Something slapped him across the ear. David frowned at him. "No blasphemy," he said. "I'm disappointed, John. We are working hard to make sure Henrik has a long and fulfilling life. If you really loved him, you would want the same."

"You mean, filled with Scotch in his empty apartment? Sounds like hell on earth to me."

"It's better than the one you have planned," David retorted. 

John didn't have the time to argue. The Boss wanted to see him. For that night, his work was done. He left the room in a puff of acrid smoke, leaving the image of his hands flipping a double bird at the two angels hovering over Henrik. 


	3. Chapter 3

John had meant to kill Carole Copeland, but Roxanna had deflected the beer barrel at the last moment, so her injuries weren't life-threatening.

More was the pity.

It was few days later, and he had kept up his nightly vigil over Henrik. Sometimes Roxanna was there before him, and he had to leave again, but sometimes he managed to get there first, and when he did, Henrik was his. All night.

It was amusing to watch from afar as he woke the next morning, still exhausted and sticky from his heated dream. He was confused, stumbling, unable to grasp what was happening to him. 

How could he? He didn't believe in such nonsense as Heaven and Hell. Dark and Light. He assumed death would be a dark void of nothingness, eternal sleep if one were fortunate. 

The reality was far more fun than that. 

For a while, John had been afraid of death. That is, until he had realised he could control it. The lake had been unpleasantly cold until the water closed over his head. Then it was beautiful. The demons had come, reaching for him with long, elegant fingers and evil smiles. He had embraced them willingly and allowed them to drag him deeper into the underworld. Past the tangle of weeds, the oozing mud, the tiny fish darting away from their descent.

_Oh Henrik, you would love this! It's like flying..._

He jumped lightly off the chest of drawers and approached the bed. 

_Wake up my love. _

But Henrik didn't. He never did. Although he reached fulfilment, he wasn't aware of anything. 

"I had no idea you were into necrophilia," Crowley drawled. "Looks like you have to up your game, Gaskell. Or let me show you how it's done." 

"I've got it in hand," John snapped. 

"I can see that, but you're not getting a lot out of it, are you?" Crowley brushed him aside and ran the back of his finger up Henrik's body. Immediately, he stiffened and began to moan. 

"Imagine how he would feel if I was doing just that for an hour. He'd be insane by the time morning came. Sharpen your skills, Demon. The Boss is getting impatient." Crowley snapped his fingers and Henrik sagged back into the mattress. "You have a week to work out why Henrik is resisting you. If you fail, the other side will get him and the Boss will lose face. You really don't want that to happen. Likely he'd get Beelzebub to skewer you up the arse with a red hot poker, then leave some of it in you for all eternity. Trust me, the novelty will soon wear off." He pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose, grinned and disappeared.

John huffed and shook his head. He looked down at Henrik, annoyed. 

Wake the fuck up, Henrik. What's wrong with you?"

_***_

_A sultry whisper, curling around Henrik's ear. He shifted, aware of a presence beside him. It felt comforting and warm, sharp-nailed fingertips gently scratching his back. His body began to respond and he rolled over onto his back. Lips feathered against his, moving down, implanting tiny tingles of sensation that made him feel more alive than he had for years. Glorious wet warmth, a gentle tugging, a rush of feelings coursing down his body. _

_His back arched as the feelings overwhelmed him, his lips open in a silent gasp. A flickering tongue moved against his and he accepted it, grasped for it, a raging hunger replacing the genteel eddies of sensation. _

_The Demon whimpered in delight, the flow from his eyes casting the room in a blood-red stain. _

_"Open your eyes, Henrik."_

_He knew what the Demon wanted, but if he did that, there would be no turning back. _

_"Do you accept?" John's voice, earnest and beguiling. "Say you accept me. Say something. Anything!"_

_Henrik shuddered and moaned, unable to voice any coherent words. He just wanted more of the tongue, those fingers..._

_***_

He woke up with a start, drenched in sweat. His body felt as if it were on fire. Staggering to the kitchen, he gulped down a pint of water before going to the bathroom to splash cool water on his face. 

As he stood up, he caught his reflection in the cupboard mirror. 

One eye was completely red. 

He blinked and examined it closely. It was strange, the coloration covering his whole eye evenly from the white to the iris. There was no pain, no bruising, just an even colour, like red glass.

As he looked, the pupil flexed and narrowed into a small slit, then popped back to a small round. 

He must have imagined it. That just wasn't possible. 

He looked again. The same thing happened. When he stood back in alarm, the reflection of a man was behind him, making him cry out in fear.

He was tall, very skinny, in black trousers almost too tight to walk in. He lowered his sunglasses to reveal eyes as red as rubies.

"Good to see you again, Henrik."

***

"How did you get in my apartment?" Henrik glanced at the bathroom door and casually edged towards it.

"A Demon can't reveal their secrets." 

"Is that what you are? I thought you were the doctor I met in Berlin two months ago." 

Crowley looked pleased. "You fell for that one, didn't you?"

"I thought you were a charlatan." Henrik gave him a disdainful glare. 

"Didn't stop you coming to my room though, did it? What were your words? Hmm, let me see." Crowley tapped his lips. "Oh yes. 'If you were Satan I'd still fuck you.' That was pretty hot, coming from someone like you. Terribly uptight, smart suit, correct bearing, nice to the ladies and secretly thirsting after all those young male doctors. I was watching you for some time before I made my move. Amazing what enough single malt and a few squirts of Demon juice can do to a man's inhibitions."

"I don't recall saying anything of the sort." Henrik's heart was beating fast. He remembered only too well. 

"Yeah, the thing about Demons is, they can read minds. So you and I both know that's a bare-faced lie." Crowley approached him.

Henrik backed away. "What do you want from me now?"

Crowley smiled slyly. "I have a new friend. He seems a decent sort. Mad as a box of frogs but terribly, insanely in love with you. So naturally, I wanted to find out who it was who had captured his heart."

"John," Henrik whispered. He felt his knees give way. Crowley guided him to a chair and shoved him into it. 

"Gaskell, yes. Terribly pretty, gorgeous green eyes. Well, they were until he was Demonised. Now they look rather like your left one." He motioned to Henrik's red eye. "Looks like you might have to cover that up tomorrow. Wear a patch and pretend you're Captain Hook. That will amuse the sick kiddies."

"Captain Hook didn't have an eye patch."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Picky picky. I don't read books, so pardon me for my mistake."

"You should. Maybe you'd learn something." Henrik wondered why he felt so calm, talking to a Demon in the dead of night. "Is John... well?"

"Not really. The poor thing has been visiting you for weeks, hoping you'd open your eyes and accept him. Of course I thought I'd have a bit of fun with you first." He examined his sharp, blackened nails. "And it's been fun watching him try. Though more fun for you, naturally."

"Sorry, I don't ..."

"Understand? No, I don't suppose you do. Demon dynamics. Humans don't tend to get how they work. It's like this. Your one-night stand with me is slowly turning you into one of us. And your Demonic side is cock-blocking your boyfriend just for the sheer hell of it. Pardon the pun."

Henrik gripped the arms of his chair. "What have you done to me?"

Crowley shrugged. "I'm just being a Demon, I guess. Only an angel can save you now."

And just like that, he vanished. 


	4. Chapter 4

Roxanna, David and Aziraphale were having afternoon tea at The Three Musketeers hotel. It had been Aziraphale's choice, his idea of a joke, although none of them were in the mood for laughing. 

"Well, this is a fine mess," Aziraphale said. "It never occurred to me that Crowley would do ... that, and yet I should have known. It's just the kind of thing he would do."

"Being a Demon?" Roxanna suggested. 

Aziraphale sighed. "Just being Crowley."

"Don't blame yourself. None of us thought Henrik would do ... that, either." 

"I presume Demon juice is fairly potent," Roxanna said, picking up a pistachio macaron and splitting it in half. She licked the buttercream filling, then sighed. "So what's the plan? Do either of you have one?"

"We were hoping you would. You're the practical one," David said, and Aziraphale nodded. 

She compressed her lips. "I can't see a way round it. Not without putting Henrik in terrible danger."

"Exorcising is the only way," Aziraphale said. "It's an ugly business. More often than not, the soul is saved but the body... that doesn't fare so well." 

"You mean, he dies?" From David. 

"Well..." Aziraphale grimaced. "That's a matter for conjecture." 

"No, you mean he dies," Roxanna said. "Oh no, poor Henrik!"

"We can't have him romping around on Earth being a Demon. He could cause all kinds of upset," Aziraphale pointed out. "I shudder to think of it." He did just that, his blond curls shaking. 

Roxanna looked upset. "So that's it? We're basically going to kill him?"

"Save his soul," Aziraphale corrected her. "And we only have a little time left before he goes full Demon on us. Then it will be too late. We'll have to let Gabriel know and then his fate will be out of our hands completely. It benefits Henrik if we deal with this quietly, between the three of us. As soon as the powers-that-be find out, it will be worse for Henrik." 

Roxanna impatiently dashed tears away from her eyes. "So be it, but we must be gentle with him. I don't want him to be afraid."

David put his hand comfortingly on his wife's arm. "He won't be."

"He's half-Demon after all," Aziraphale murmured. 

***

"My sight is in perfect working order, Mr. Levy!" Henrik turned away from Sacha's concerned face and stalked off down the corridor. He went into the bathroom and took off his glasses, looking in the mirror. 

His other eye had begun to show signs of reddening. The staff had begun to notice and comments were being made behind his back. Now Sacha was questioning his ability to perform in the operating theatre. 

His body felt warm, as if a fire had been lit from within. Since Crowley's visit, he had become short-tempered and angry at the slightest thing. People avoided him and patients feared him. 

Did they know what was happening to him? He was losing his old self, or maybe he was regaining it. He no longer knew. It almost felt as if he had been sleepwalking for the last two years, definitely since Frederik went on his shooting spree. 

Now he envied him. To feel that bold, to have the courage to aim a gun at a stranger and...

He stared at himself, shocked. _Fight the Demon, Henrik. Fight it!_

Then there was that young Registrar with the tight backside and come hither smile. All it would take was one snap of his fingers and the man would follow him like a lamb down to the Basement...

_No!_

He gripped the basin, willing the sultry thoughts from his head. A splash of cold water gave him clarity but he knew it wouldn't last. The Demon was taking over, and when it did, he would be lost forever. 

The door opened and Sacha looked round it. "We're ready for you, Henrik. Are you okay?"

Henrik put his glasses back on his nose and straightened up, brushing invisible specks from his jacket. "I'm perfectly well, thank you."

***

The operation was a delicate one, removing a mass from a woman's womb but trying to avoid giving her a hysterectomy. For a while, Henrik and Sacha worked as a team, aided by Essie and watched by Dominic Copeland. Any attempt on Dom's part to lighten the sober atmosphere had been instantly quelled by a smart rebuke from Henrik, and silence had fallen around the operating table. 

Halfway through, Henrik felt a sharp pain in his chest, so sudden it made him gasp. He winced, holding his hand to his head. Sacha looked up. 

"Henrik?"

The pain was excruciating. Henrik staggered back, groaning. It felt as if a white hot needle had penetrated his heart. His knees folded underneath him, and he crashed to the floor, medical equipment scattered around him. 

Dom immediately rushed to Henrik's aid as Sacha fought to save the woman. A crash team rushed in and got Henrik onto a trolley, steering him out the door with Dom in pursuit. 

"Get Ms. Fanshawe down here. I need her now," Sacha said to Essie, who rushed off to phone the gynaecology department. 

***

The team were struggling with Henrik. His eyes were wide, his long limbs flailing around like windmills. Serena approached with a large syringe and jammed it into the meaty part of Henrik's buttock. He seemed to hiss with rage at her, then slumped, motionless. She looked at Sacha with relief. 

"Right. Now tell me what happened."

Sacha explained the incident in the operating theatre. "I've been increasingly concerned about his eyes. He's been acting out of character too."

'Are you thinking some form of brain damage from the accident?" Ric was standing in the doorway. 

"It's possible. This isn't the Henrik we know."

Serena shone a torch in Henrik's eyes. "Well, apart from being red all over, his pupils are reacting normally. It doesn't look like bleeding. I've never seen anything like this before...."

She started as Henrik's eyes opened. He looked straight at her with a stare so unnerving, she took a step back. 

"Henrik? Can you hear me?"

"How can that be? Didn't you give him enough sedative to wipe him out?" From Ric. Henrik's head turned towards him. His smile was cold. 

Then it changed and became a snarl of change. It was as if an invisible force had thrown him back on the hospital bed. His back arched and then he slumped, unconscious. 

Serena looked at the obs monitor. "His heart rate is dangerously low. None of this is making any sense." As they watched, his pulse began to drop. 

"We must do something! Otherwise we're just going to watch him die," Sacha said urgently. 

"Shock him." Serena motioned to Donna to get the defibrillator. "I want everyone but essential staff out of here. Now." She looked at Sacha and Ric with disbelief. "We can't lose him. Not like this."

***

"Get on with it, man!" David tried to hold Henrik's arms down but he was fighting him all the way. Roxanna had his legs and was holding on for grim life. 

Aziraphale held the Good Book in one hand and made the sign of the cross in the other. "I've never done this before! In the name of the Father, Son and... oof!" He doubled over as Henrik kicked him hard in the stomach. Looking annoyed, he straightened up and fixed Henrik with a determined look. "With the power invested in me by the Lord.... I cast this Demon out!"

It was then Henrik stopped struggling and sat up. His smile was chilling. Aziraphale looked nervously at Roxanna and David. "I think we upset it."

In the next moment, Henrik was flat on his back, his life slipping away. The three angels looked at each other.

"What happened? Did it work?" David asked. 

"You could say that." A new voice from the corner. John Gaskell leaned nonchalantly against the wall. "I wouldn't bother trying to resurrect him. He'll soon be mine anyway."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh my lord, this has gone in directions I wasn't expecting....
> 
> Yeah, and let's just assume Angels and Demons do have a gender and sexuality, because otherwise the whole plot of this story makes no sense. 
> 
> Not that it makes a lot of sense anyway, to be fair...

Henrik looked around him. He seemed to be ... nowhere. There was nothing above him, below him, or to the sides. Nothing in the distance. 

Nothing at all. 

He seemed to be surrounded by a white mist, and in that instant, he realised he was probably hovering between life and death. Strangely, the thought didn't bother him. 

_Oskar. _

Okay, so the thought of leaving his grandson behind bothered him, but not as much as he thought it would. That had to be his Demonic side, clouding his judgement.

Out of the mist, three people came. Two were familiar, the third was not. His breath caught as he recognised Roxanna, and next to her, David, his dark face a start contrast to the white all around them. He smiled easily. 

"Hello Henrik." 

"Have I died?" Henrik asked. Roxanna looked pale, her skin like parchment. The strange man next to her had seraphic blond curls. He was the archetypal angel of storybooks, if archetypal angels wore white suits and carried a little weight around their middle. 

"Not quite," he said, his voice genteel and a little pained. "We have a bit of a problem, you see. You're actually a Demon."

"Oh." Henrik wasn't sure how to react. "Well, that's somewhat unfortunate."

"Agreed," the blond man said. "However, it is possible you can still be saved."

Henrik looked at the three of them. He remembered Roxanna's former views on religion, and wondered if this was some kind of trick. "Saved from what, exactly?"

"Eternal damnation," Roxanna said. She didn't look comfortable saying the words. 

"Satan," David added helpfully.

"Ah, I see. So where is he? I presumed he would be here to state his case." 

"This is Satan we're talking about. He has people to do that for him. Do you know who Crowley is?"

Henrik avoided David's bright, questioning gaze. "Er... yes. We may have ... our paths may have crossed in the past." 

"Did someone mention my name?" A long, lean figure came strolling towards them. He removed his sunglasses and flashed a red-eyed look at the assembled group. "This is a bit underhand, Aziraphale. You haven't told him he has a choice, have you?"

"I was getting to that. You interrupted," the blond man said crossly. "As I was about to say, Mr. Hanssen, you can choose between the Light and the Dark. It's entirely up to you." 

"And the next bit?" Crowley prompted. 

"What next bit?" The blond angel, Aziraphale, looked exasperated. 

"You're not a full Demon," Crowley said to Henrik. "You're a hybrid."

Henrik frowned. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"Well, the Oxford Dictionary definition is something composing of two..." Aziraphale started. 

"I know that! I meant, what does being a hybrid mean for me?" 

Crowley sighed dramatically and examined his sharpened nails. "Potentially, you could have the best of both worlds. The Demon in you is strong, but if you have an equally strong Angelic side, the two will even out and we can all get on with our lives."

"Don't act as if this is a great inconvenience to yourself. This is your fault." Aziraphale wagged his finger at Crowley. "If you had kept ... that thing in your trousers, this would never have happened!"

"Never mind about that. What about me?" Henrik looked at each of them, the angels with long-suffering looks on their faces, and Crowley, enjoying every moment of his conundrum. 

"I could make you into a full Demon, which would solve a lot of problems. We would have to..."

"I don't think so." Henrik was appalled, more by the thought of being a Demon than what Crowley was suggesting. 

"It's unavoidable" Crowley drawled. "Satan wants full Demons, not half-arsed ones."

"What about John Gaskell? What is he?" 

"Never mind about him. He's where he deserves to be," Roxanna said stiffly. 

"Oh, I banished him to Hell for a while," Crowley said, shrugging. "He was being far too smug and irritating. Don't worry. Being a full Demon isn't really that bad." 

"You mean, it isn't good," Aziraphale corrected him. "I believe a Demon being not that bad is mutually exclusive." 

"I hate you sometimes." Crowley's voice was acid. 

"That's so unfair. He killed several people in the name of research, then killed me when I threatened to expose him! Now you're saying being a Demon is a good thing?" Roxanna was upset. 

"Sometimes. I mean, he did try to be good but we helped him lose his way. You've got to admit, the results were pretty spectacular."

"That's one way of putting it," David said, scowling at him. "I think 'lost his way' is a bit of an understatement." 

"I don't know why you're complaining. You're together now. Although angels don't do the sex thing, do they? No more than vanilla, anyway."

"Well...." Aziraphale started. 

Henrik coughed, interrupting him. "Er... what about Demons? Do they do the ... sex thing?"

"All the time," Crowley said, with another insouciant shrug. "Even with some angels." He winked at Aziraphale, whose blush stained the air around them pink. 

"So now you're informed," Aziraphale stammered, "we have a bit of a problem, and we need to solve it quickly. If High Command get involved, the whole thing will get terribly complicated."

"So what are you suggesting?" Henrik looked at each of them. "I need solutions, people, not problems!"

"You need to lie with an Angel," Aziraphale said delicately. "One with the suitable ... equipment." His flush deepened to scarlet.

Roxanna giggled slightly. "Oh! I guess that counts me out."

"Pretty much," Crowley said. "Now we're all up to speed, I'll leave you to it. The choice is yours, Henrik."

"Now wait a minute. This mess is your doing!" Aziraphale protested. 

POOFFF! Crowley vanished, leaving only a wicked grin which faded into nothing.

"Typical!" Aziraphale wrung his hands. "I might have known he would leave this for us to sort out. And until we find a solution, you'll have to stay here, I'm afraid, Henrik."

"No, that's ridiculous. We could at least wake him up and free a hospital bed," Roxanna said briskly. She shot her hands out towards Henrik...

CLEAR!

An electric bolt of energy shot through him. For a moment, he felt as if he were falling, then his eyes opened. 

"Back in the room," Serena said, her eyes showing relief. "Thank god for that."

A rhythmic beeping told Henrik he was alive and at Holby Hospital. Figures milled around him, and he could recognise the voices of Sacha, Ric and Donna. Serena leaned over and smiled at him. 

"Don't do that to us again, will you?"

"What happened?" His throat felt rough and his voice sounded like sandpaper against wood.

"We're not sure. Nothing is coming up on the scans. We'll keep you under observation for a couple of days. Take this opportunity to rest." She gave him a stern look and left him to drift into a dreamless sleep. 


	6. Chapter 6

"Believe me, I'm finding this as awkward as you are." Aziraphale fiddled with the drip bag above Henrik's head. "Sorry, Henrik. It was the only way we could think of without involving High Command or causing us both embarrassment."

"What is that stuff?" Henrik frowned at the substance, which didn't look like saline fluid. It was pale, cloudy and... "It's been contaminated!"

"Well, I find that a little insulting, seeing as I'm trying to help you!"

"No, look. There's gold in it. It looks like glitter!"

"Ah, yes, about that. There has to be some way of differentiating Angel Juice from Demon Juice, you see." Aziraphale coughed and looked away from Henrik's incredulous stare. 

"Angel Juice? What the hell is Angel Juice? No, forget it. I'm not having this..." Henrik began to remove the tape from the line going into his arm. 

"No, no, no! Don't do that. It took a long time to ... collect that amount." Aziraphale's cheeks went pink. "Rather longer than I anticipated, actually."

"Get this thing off me. Right now." 

"Sorry, friend, I can't do that." Aziraphale sat by the bed. "I'll just stay here until this has all gone through. You do want to be an Angel, don't you?"

Henrik sighed deeply. "I was rather hoping to be alive and conducting surgery, not here." He knew he could thank Crowley for that. And John Gaskell, the desirable psychopath. "What's happening to me, Aziraphale? I'm not ready to die yet. My grandson will be heartbroken, you know."

He glanced over at Aziraphale, and could see he was weakening. 

"Poor Oskar, the only male role model he has in his life and I'm dying. He needs a steady hand to guide him. Who's going to do it if I'm not here? You? Or Crowley?"

Aziraphale huffed. "You're asking the wrong Angel. It's above my pay grade, I'm afraid."

"So you've never bent the rules for anyone? Not even Crowley?" Henrik side-eyed him and saw his lips compress. The question had hit home. 

"Well, that was different. That was a matter of world-saving importance. This is just a minor inconvenience."

"So it won't matter if I don't have all the Angel Juice, will it?"

"Stop bothering me, Demon," Aziraphale yawned widely. "Procuring all that juice has quite drained me."

***

The night slowly passed. Henrik drifted into a dreamless sleep. When he next woke, it was to Sacha arriving, bearing a tray. 

"Breakfast!" He sounded cheerful. 

Henrik eased himself to a sitting position. "So senior consultants are now doubling up as catering staff. The NHS really is going to hell in a handcart."

Sacha seemed unperturbed, his smile still wide. "You need to eat, Henrik. Once you do, we'll consider a discharge."

"Do I have to void my bowels as well?" Henrik's voice was acid. He picked up a slice of white toast and began buttering it. Marmalade followed. The toast was cold but when he bit into it, the sweetness of the marmalade felt like an adrenalin shot. He realised how hungry he was and wolfed the whole lot down as Sacha told him his brain scan was clear. 

"Your seizure was an anomaly. Possibly epileptic but we don't really want to put that label on you willy-nilly. It comes with all kinds of repercussions."

"I'm not epileptic. I'm in perfect health." Henrik pushed the tray table away and swung his legs out of bed. 

"Even so, it's also advisable to do a psych assessment before you return to work. Actually, it isn't advisable. It's a necessity."

"On whose directive?"

"Max McGerry. She's acting as CEO whilst you recover." 

Henrik bit back a savage response and nodded. He knew the drill, though he didn't appreciate it coming from that wretched woman. 

Sacha drew a deep breath. "So the recommendation is bed rest until tomorrow, then discharge in the morning if nothing manifests itself."

"Tomorrow? What am I supposed to do until tomorrow?"

"Rest," Sacha said firmly. "I'll bring you some magazines. What would you like? Carp Monthly? Country Living? Playboy perhaps?"

Henrik stared coldly at him. 

"I'll leave you to it." Sacha wisely did just that. 

***

"So he's had all of it?" Roxanna persisted. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. It means when the time comes, which could be tomorrow or thirty years from now, he'll be a fully-fledged Angel. Not that he knows that. I wouldn't want him thinking he has a free pass to do whatever he likes." 

"Oh, Henrik wouldn't anyway. He isn't like that," Roxanna said firmly. She nudged David, who nodded. 

"Absolutely. Salt of the earth, our Henrik."

"Good!" Aziraphale picked up his cup and saucer and sipped his tea. 

"I wish it were that easy to become an angel all the time," Roxanna sighed. 

Aziraphale looked affronted. "It certainly wasn't easy for me! You have no idea what I went through. I had to think of all kinds of ... indelicate things. And I had hand cramps for days!"

Roxanna and David exchanged glances, then burst into laughter. 

"It isn't funny! Now Crowley thinks I'm obsessed with him when all I was doing was ... stop it, you two! I can easily revert your angelic status and make things very difficult. Very difficult indeed!" 

Roxanna kissed his pale cheek. "Aw, you're not going to do that, Azzy. You're a wonderful angel and we both love you to bits."

"How sweet." A dark figure had materialised in front of them. Crowley lowered his sunglasses and flashed his ruby eyes at them. "One thing to remember, though. Sleeping on the job can be very dangerous."

They stared at him in horror. 

"I didn't!" Aziraphale was indignant. "I never sleep on the job. How can you suggest that?"

"Not even for one moment?" Crowley smiled craftily. 

"Absolutely not!"

"Of course he didn't," Roxanna said briskly. "And he's solved an issue that wouldn't have arisen had you not seduced Henrik in the first place!" She fixed Crowley with a hard stare. 

He muttered under his breath and looked sulky. Aziraphale jumped up to join him. 

"Turn that frown upside down, dear. How about I take you to this little place I know in Shoreditch? You can suck on some meaty bones and moan at me about how incorrigible Angels are. Hmmm?" He led Crowley away, leaving Roxanna and David alone. 

"You don't really think there's any truth in what Crowley was suggesting, do you?" Roxanna asked her husband. 

"Crowley is just being Crowley. He likes us to doubt ourselves. Don't worry, darling. Henrik's soul is safe with us." David kissed his wife tenderly and they vanished together into the mist.

***

Henrik was allowed home the following morning. It felt strange, being driven back to his apartment. His Volvo had been retrieved and was in a local garage. It needed extensive repairs, which meant he had no choice but to following Serena's strict instructions and get a week's rest before returning to work. 

If he were honest, he did not feel any different than he had before the whole wretched business with the Demons had started. In the mirror, he inspected his eyes and was relieved to find them back to normal, although if he looked closely, he fancied he could see a tiny speck of red deep within the pupils. 

That was nonsense though. 

He could almost convince himself that he hadn't had conversations with Roxanna and David, or the skinny Demon, Crowley. Or even with John, who looked far more beguiling than he had done in real life, if that were even possible. 

Almost, but not quite. 

His vivid dreams could have been the result of stress, delayed trauma and possibly too much Scotch.

Could have been, but he knew they weren't. 

Darkness fell. Henrik sat in his leather armchair, nursing a glass of Talisker, staring at the blank television on the wall. If his soul was saved, it wasn't as much fun as he had hoped. He was still alone, drinking, waiting for night to pass.

He closed his eyes. Then opened them again. 

And smiled. 

John was leaning against the door jamb, hands in trouser pockets, smiling back at him. 

"Forgiven me yet?"

Henrik took a sip of his whisky and regarded him. "Not until you beg." 

John's grin widened. He pushed himself away from the door and strolled casually into the room, then gracefully sank down onto his knees before Henrik, his green eyes locked onto Henrik's hazel ones. His hands rested on Henrik's knees.

"What next?"

Henrik relaxed back in the chair. "Now you can show me how good it feels to be bad."


End file.
